


Renovations

by SoDoRoses (FairyChess)



Series: LAOFT Extras [113]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, half joking death threats, past original character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25765165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyChess/pseuds/SoDoRoses
Summary: Elliot shares an afternoon with Virgil, and a room with someone else.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Elliott (Cartoon Therapy)
Series: LAOFT Extras [113]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1365505
Comments: 28
Kudos: 420





	Renovations

**Author's Note:**

> takes place some time before _Spiderling_
> 
> For the prompts:
> 
> "Please please can we have more Elliot and Virgil friendship feels!!! I love their relationship soooo much!!! I love this universe soooooo much!!!" ( from an anon)
> 
> "laoft prompt: literally anything with elliot!" (from @glass-unshattering)
> 
> a big thank you to [@trivia-goddess](trivia-goddess.tumblr.com) for beta-reading and also being the first person i ran this concept by!

“Do you want me to kill him?”

“You always ask that,” said Elliot, rolling their eyes, “And I always tell you no,”

“You’re not incapable of changing your mind,” said Virgil, grinning up at them from his spot on the floor, “Or lying,”

“I’m not lying,” laughing Elliot, “And I’ll let you know if I change my mind,”

They wouldn’t, and Virgil knew that. It was more of a running gag at this point, because he was sure Elliot was entirely too gentle-natured to ever take Virgil up on the offer to rid them of their petty, obnoxious older brother.

Or maybe not _just_ a gag – Elliot might never agree to it, but Virgil hoped they knew what he meant when he said it. That he could protect them, and they only ever had to ask.

A little of both – Virgil would probably only admit to the joke half if anyone asked. No need to be more obviously sappy than he already was.

Virgil couldn’t really help Elliot with their homework, but he could certainly sit on the floor and listen to them groan, occasionally reaching up to pat them on the ankle in solidarity. Every so often they would hand him a pencil rubbed down to the wood and Virgil would take a knife and shave at it until it was sharp again.

“ _Done,_ ” said Elliot, throwing down the pencil in their own hand and making Virgil start, “I cannot _stand_ government,”

“Mood,” said Virgil.

“Aren’t you literally the _head_ of your government?”

“I can still hate it,” said Virgil, “Very easily,”

Snickering, Elliot closed their textbook, the paper of their homework tucked in the pages.

“Are you finished?” asked Virgil.

Elliot winced, shrinking back from him a little and making Virgil’s chest ache.

“Uh, no,” they said quietly, “Sorry I still have, uh, some chemistry to do. But it won’t take me long, it’s mostly math and I have a calculator. I’m really sorry, I know this is super boring-”

“Elliot,” said Virgil gently, reaching up to lay a hand on their ankle again, “I’m not mad,”

Elliot gave him a dubious look.

“… You aren’t bored?” they pressed.

Virgil held up the pencil, and then gestured to the small square of embroidery in his lap that he’d been fiddling with when he wasn’t whittling away at Elliot’s pencils.

“I have plenty to entertain me,” he said, “And doing different things in the same room is one of my first picks for hanging out with people so trust me, this is fine,”

Elliot relaxed, and Virgil felt that throb again.

Elliot apologized a lot. They seemed to near-constantly think they were bothering Virgil, or annoying him, or taking up too much of his time, even though most of the time it was _Virgil_ who sought _them_ out.

It kind of broke Virgil’s heart sometimes.

“Where is the chemistry homework?” he asked, and Elliot seemed grateful for the subject change.

“In my backpack over there,” said Elliot, nodding toward the closet and moving to get off the bed.

“I’ll get it,” said Virgil, “I’m closer,”

Standing, Virgil made his way across the wooden floor, grabbing at Elliot’s bag by the open closet door.

He looked up, and suddenly felt like his blood froze in his veins.

In the back of the closet, behind a messy pile of shoes, Virgil could see a tiny crawl space door, barely big enough for one person on their hands and knees to get into. It had a little glass knob for a handle.

Virgil _knew_ that door.

The handle used to be iron. He’d burnt his elbow on it, and the next time he’d seen it, it had been glass.

His heart hammering, Virgil turned, looking at the rest of the room.

There hadn’t been a closet, before. It must have been built out from the old wall, so the room was smaller. There was a roof sloping from just under Elliot’s window that was new, what Virgil now saw in his mind’s eye was an addition to the old porch.

Elliot kept their bed on the opposite wall. Greta’s had been by the window.

Something moved in front of Virgil’s vision, and he realized at some point he’d sat on the floor, shaking. Elliot’s face was drawn with concern and a decent amount of alarm, frowning deeply.

“V? Are you okay? What’s wrong, you just- you just kinda sat down all at once, I kinda thought you fainted-”

Virgil did, actually, feel a bit faint, his heartbeat treacherously quick and loud in his ears.

How many times had he climbed through that window? How had he not recognized it, until now, even with all of the changes and additions to the house that Virgil could now see through, to the painfully familiar bones underneath?

“V, I- can you say something?”

“How long have you lived here?” said Virgil, voice ragged.

Elliot startled, and then relaxed.

“Uh, like – in the house?”

Virgil nodded.

“My whole life?” said Elliot.

“Do you know when your parents bought this house?” Virgil pressed.

Elliot’s frown was wary, but mostly still concerned.

“They didn’t,” said Elliot, “My dad, uh, inherited it from his grandma?”

Virgil wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to this question, but he found himself asking it anyway.

“Who was she?”

It said something about Elliot, as a person or maybe just how they felt about Virgil, that they didn’t even hesitate.

“Nessa Pennybacker,”

Virgil’s stomach clenched, in a distant sort of not-quite-grief.

“Fischer,” he said softly, “Nessa Fischer,”

Elliot startled slightly.

Hesitantly, they sat down on the floor beside him.

“… Did you… know my great-grandma?” they asked quietly.

Virgil shook his head.

“Not- really. Not well,” he said, a little strangled.

But he did remember her. Toby’s little blonde slip of a sister, a little nervous around Virgil but constantly trying to insert herself in Greta’s space with a starry-eyed, awestruck expression. Virgil suddenly remembered the four of them dancing at Greta’s wedding, Nessa skittish but excited to be included, and felt a lance of pain so strong it made his head spin again.

“… Do you wanna talk about it?”

Virgil considered for a moment, smiled thinly at them, and shook his head.

“No,” he said.

He couldn’t. Not when he’d been surprised by it like this, not when the grief had snuck up on him and held a knife to his throat without any warning.

“Okay,” said Elliot, biting their lip and still clearly fretting.

Virgil tried to muster up some kind of reassurance for them, but Elliot just set their expression suddenly.

Shuffling closer, they hesitated for another brief moment and then looped their arms around the closest one of Virgil’s. They set their head on his shoulder, and began to take measured, deliberate breaths.

Virgil’s eyes stung for a moment.

But he recovered, setting his head on top of theirs.

“It’ll be okay,” they mumbled, pressing their cheek to his hoodie, a brief, firm pressure that was a little too shy to be called a nuzzle.

From anyone else, it would have sounded empty and hollow – but Elliot’s voice only held certainty and comforting compassion, quiet and unassuming and sure of what they were saying.

And really – with a surety like that, Virgil couldn’t help but believe them.

**Author's Note:**

> you can also find me over on tumblr @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors or on discord in [the laoft server!](https://discord.gg/A3XMAM3)


End file.
